Shot Something Into My Veins
by like-lions
Summary: A serial killer is on the loose, killing women left and right. When Reid meets a girl and becomes smitten with her, how does she fit into the plot? Reid/OC Rated T for language. Read this, it's awesome and Chuck Norris approved.
1. Chapter One: Do You Catch Your Breath?

_**A/N: So, I got this idea on a whim, just thinking about how Reid never gets a girl, and I thought he should get a chance to be happy in the end. So, yeah. I wrote this. It gets interesting later on, don't worry. Right now, I'm just setting up the story.**_

**Chapter One: Do You Catch Your Breath?**

"Three women are dead, and the death rate is still rising," agent Rossi said, throwing three manila folders on to the folding table, pictures flying out of the edges. The pictures were gory, revealing women decapitated, and yet no signs of trauma, or any signs that they fought back.

"It's odd that they have no defensive wounds, like they either knew their attacker, or they were killed suddenly, precisely," Spencer Reid said, running his fingers through his almond colored hair, "They had to be dead by the first hit, or they would've fought back."

"They could have drugged them," Emily Prentiss said, taking a long sip of her coffee, "Maybe it was a date rape thing? He was trying to cover his tracks?"

"No signs of rape. That's the weird thing," Rossi said, scratching his forehead, confused. He didn't like not knowing what was going on, or feeling like he didn't have all of the answers. "What gets this guy off?"

"I don't know," agent Morgan said, getting up from his comfortable position in the chair and walking towards the door, "But I do know that the longer we sit around here waiting for an answer, more women are out there dying in his hands."

"All three women went missing after visiting a local coffee shop," JJ said, looking through the files Rossi threw onto the table. "Maybe we should start there."

"What was the place called?" Morgan said, grabbing a jacket from the hook in the corner. He was eager to catch this guy. He always had an issue with cases where young women were dying, and he especially had something wrong with the brutal decapitation of said women.

"Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf," JJ said, reading directly off the sheet, "On 42nd Street."

Rossi walked around to the opposite side of the table, sighed, then responded with, "Morgan, you and Reid go to this place, go inside, ask around, see if anyone's seen anything suspicious. We'll keep you updated if anything goes down here."

Reid got up and joined Morgan as they walked out the door.

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Morgan and Reid pushed open the large glass door, leading into the coffee shop. It was small, quaint, even. The walls were decorated with copies of works by Monet and Picasso. Everything was ultra trendy, with bright colors everywhere you looked.

"God, just looking at this place is giving me a headache," Reid said, almost shielding his eyes from an imaginary glare.

"I can't say I disagree with you, buddy," Morgan said, taking the lead and walking towards the cashier. She was a tall girl, red hair that reached her shoulders, and a smirk on her face that said everything but she was happy to be there. "Excuse me; I'm agent Morgan, and this is my partner, agent Reid. We're investigating a series of murders of women that have all been abducted at this residence. Has anything odd happened recently?"

"Anything," Spencer said, butting in, "Little things, like someone staring a little bit too much at the women in here, or even just being annoying beyond normal behavior."

"Um, well two dudes came in here just a while ago, asking me stupid questions," the cashier said, as Reid's face lit up, only to have the smile fade when Morgan signaled that she was talking about them, "Seriously, I've only been working here two days. I don't know anything."

"Well, thanks for your help, anyway," Morgan said, equally as sarcastic.

Reid and Morgan turned around to head for the door, when Reid spoke up and said, "Wait, shouldn't we question a few people in here, just ask if they're regulars, or something. They'd probably know more than anyone else."

"Good job, kid," Morgan said, taking his advice, and heading towards a blonde sitting in the corner, staring out the window. Reid walked off into his own direction, taking interest in a petite brunette sitting around, staring into space. He took a seat next to her, in one of the awkward wicker chairs.

"What are you doing?" he said, in a whisper.

"Oh," the woman said, snapping out of it, and looking at him, "I probably look insane right now. I'm just people watching. I know, I'm sort of weird that way. But, it is a good form of entertainment. Like soap operas."

"Really," Spencer said, taking interest in the conversation, "How so?"

"Well, you see that lady over there?" the woman said, motioning with her head, "She's breaking up with her boyfriend or husband. He's upset, he thinks she is cheating on him, and she really did, but she doesn't want him to know that she's leaving him for the other guy."

"How can you tell that?" Spencer said, slightly confused. Despite his intellectual advances, there were just some things that he had no clue about. This being one of them.

"Just facial expressions," she said, "And she keeps saying, 'I did not', 'It's not you, it's me' and 'That's just a lie'."

"Interesting…" Spencer said, realizing why he was there in the first place, "Oh, I'm agent Reid, Spencer Reid. I'm investigating some murders that took place in this area."

"Oh, I heard about those," the woman said, "Such a shame."

"Yes, well, they were all abducted from this café," Reid said, slightly jolted by her knowledge of the murders. He wasn't aware that news of them had been released. But then again, he wasn't aware of a lot of things. "So, have you seen anything suspicious around here, anything odd, or off?"

"Um, nothing substantial," she said, "Guys stare sometimes, but that's just their nature, I guess."

"Not all guys," Spencer said, under his breath.

The woman smiled, saying, "My name's Evangeline. But please, call me Evie. I hate my name, haha."

"You shouldn't," Spencer said, brushing his hair behind his ears, as it was getting in his face, "It's a pretty name."

"I know that this is really sudden, and everything," Evangeline said, "But do you want to meet up sometime?"

"Um, um," Spencer said, unsure of what to say, "Yeah, sure."

She wrote her number on his palm in big letters, black letters, "Well, call me, than." She got up, took her coffee, leaving him there stunned.

"So, any luck?" Morgan said, coming over to the corner where Spencer was.

"Um, no, not really," Spencer said, his mouth still wide open, his gag reflex almost failing him. This was one of the first times in his life that he didn't have to ask someone if they wanted to go out.

"Well, well, well," Morgan said, grabbing Reid's arm, "I think you did get a little lucky. C'mon slugger, we have to go face the wrath of Rossi. He's probably gonna be pissed that we didn't find anything, you know?"

Reid still was standing there, dumbfounded. Morgan led him out the door and said, "And you'll be completely numb to it. Lucky bastard."

_**A/N: Wowza. That was long for me. xD Anyway, review and you'll get the next chapter!**_


	2. Chapter Two: Riot Girl

_**A/N: So, I've been really, really slacking on updates. No excuses, I just didn't have the muse. Plus, I hate writing filler chapters like this one. It's necessary, however, just to expand Evie's character, so I had to suck it up and write it. I also recently realized that this story will be oddly short. Not that the plot isn't good, that isn't it. It's just that I don't want to bore you with tons of fluffy chapters. I sort of hate writing fluff like that. So, leave a review, telling me if you want some more Spence/Evie fluffiness or just some actual substance for the story (i.e. the action of the story). So, yeah? Enjoy this creepily fluffy chapter!**_

**Chapter Two: A Riot Girl and She's Taking on the World**

"Hey, Rossi," Morgan said, quickly walking into the station, Reid following quickly behind him, attempting—and failing—to prevent him from saying what he was sure he was going to, "Guess what?"

"You didn't find out any information about the case?" Rossi said, not looking up from a criminal file, "Funny, nobody else did either. This guy is smart, he knows what he's doing; all the loose ends are tied up."

"The sneaky bastard," Morgan said, getting angry and then focusing back on the topic at hand, "But I was talking more about the girl that hit on Reid at the coffee shop around the corner." Reid froze in his tracks, now just trying to hide behind Morgan, not wanting to have to see the inevitable looks of surprise on everyone's faces.

Rossi looked up from the files, set them on the table, and walked towards Reid's not-so-hiding place behind Morgan. "Wow," he said, patting Reid on the back a little bit too firmly, "Some good news, finally."

"She gave him her number and everything," Morgan said, looking at Reid's face, who was trying to keep the blood from rushing to his cheeks. They already felt like they were on fire, so he knew he was too late.

"Mr. Smooth," Rossi said, noting Reid's strained blushing, "Nothing to be embarrassed about, we're just excited for you, that's all. You've been a little bit too focused on your work lately. You needed to lighten up a bit."

Reid finally stood up straight, knowing that he was right. He had been a workaholic lately, trying to get his mind off of his inevitable loneliness. He had friends, but while they were out on dates on Friday nights, he was stuck at home, looking over files of cold cases and being forced to stare at the gruesome details of crimes that weren't even being looked at anymore. Not that he didn't enjoy reading about that kind of stuff. He was a little bit weird in that sense.

Rossi looked at Reid's left palm, examining the big black numbers stained on it. "So," he said, after checking to make sure it wasn't a fake number, "Are you gonna call her?"

"Um," Reid said, trying to unclog the lump that felt like it had made its home in his throat, "I guess so. I'm not really used to doing this kind of thing."

"Call her," Morgan said, looking into Reid's eyes, making him uncomfortable, "This'll be good for you."

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So he did. He picked up his cell phone, which he usually only used for work related purposes, and called the number, hoping—praying—that he wouldn't make a fool out of himself again.

"Hello?" a woman's voice on the other end said.

"Yes, is this Evie?" Reid said, pushing down the bubbly sensation in his lower stomach.

"Yes, and who may I ask is calling?" Evie said, her voice so polite and friendly. She seemed a lot more feminine and adorable when she wasn't sure who it was. Not that she wasn't normally, but she seemed like the type that changed around people she felt comfortable with. Reid wasn't sure if he was happy or freaked out by the fact that she already seemed comfortable with him.

"It's Spencer Reid?" he said, trying not to show the fear and nervousness in his voice, "I met you at the coffee shop around here earlier today?"

"Oh, hi!" she said, her voice staying pretty and sweet, but now with an edge to it. He wasn't sure how she normally was, but part of him really wanted to find out, "How're you doing?"

"Great, I guess," Reid said, trying to find a way to segue into the real reason he was calling; asking her out. He hadn't done this that many times before. Actually, only twice before. Once didn't end so well, and the other ended with him getting smacked in the face by the prettiest girl in school, sophomore year; great for an adolescent boy's self esteem, "I was wondering if you wanted to go out sometime? It's perfectly fine if you don't, I was just wondering—"

"Haha," Evie said, giggling at how nervous and awkward she could tell he was. But she thought it was adorable, so she didn't mind too much, "I'd love to."

If she could have seen his face at that moment, she might have just changed her mind. His mouth dropped open, his eyes were held open wide; almost as if to say, "Are you serious?"

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When the following Saturday night came, Reid wasn't sure about anything anymore. What was he supposed to wear? How was he supposed to act? He decided that he would do what his mom told him to do when he was a lot younger, before she began to hear the voices; be yourself, because if you aren't, and they like you, they don't like you for you, they like you for your acting skills. She wasn't the best with words, but she got her point across. He went with dressy casual, since that's what the restaurant they were going to called themselves on the website. It was an Italian place that they decided on after she told him about her Italian heritage. He wasn't always interested in Italy as a country, but he immersed himself in the culture and history the entire week so that he would seem like he was, so if the topic came up. He dressed in beige slacks and a light—but not too light—blue dress shirt. He double checked his outfit and hair on his way out of the door. The car ride to Evie's house was agonizing. By the time he got to her address and parallel parked outside, sweat was running down his forehead. Luckily, he had the foresight to bring a small hand towel with him; just in case.

Evie's house looked like every other house on the block. She lived in a small, but old, suburb just north of the city. Two cars were parked in the driveway, but Evie had told him that her elderly father lived with her, so it didn't bother him as much as it normally would. It sort of warmed his heart to know that she was kind and caring enough to let her father stay with her once his mind started to go. It was something he had thought about doing for his own mother, but she was too far gone for that. Reid didn't mention his mother when he talked to Evie; he didn't want to scare her off with the whole schizophrenia thing. Some said that it was genetic; that it could be passed down from parents to their children. It wasn't exactly something you brought up to someone right away. He walked up to her house on the paved sidewalk, which was cracked, but it seemed almost purposefully, like it was art, rather than just something you walked on to get from your house to the mailbox. He rang the doorbell, and was surprised to have her father almost instantly open the door, as if he was watching him and just waiting for him to ring the doorbell. He didn't look elderly, or at least not elderly enough to require full time care, but god knows what kind of disorder he could have, and considering his own history with mental illness, Reid wasn't exactly one to judge.

"You must be Reid," the man said, holding out a hand, holding the door with the other, "I'm Mr. De Luca, but you can call me Jack. Evie'll be down in a second." He seemed friendly, normal, average, actually. Not exactly a nutcase. But who knew what he was like on a bad day.

"Okay, no problem Mr. De Luca—I mean, Jack," Reid said, uncomfortably. It felt like what a first date might've been like in high school, not knowing how to act around the family; especially the father.

"Well don't just stand out there in the cold," Jack said, holding the door open, "Come on in."

As Reid walked into the home, he noted that it was pretty old-fashioned on the inside. It seemed like a nice place; cozy, most definitely. He also took notice of the plastic on the sofas, something he hadn't seen since his last visit to his grandmother's house.

"I told Evie to put those on there," Jack said, when he noticed Reid's stares at the plastic covered couches, "I hate having stains on stuff. I'm a little obsessive like that." Reid could relate.

"I'm sure he could tell that by now, Dad," Evie said, walking out of the kitchen, where the stairwell was located, "Hey, Spencer; you ready to go?" She was wearing a black dress, which fit her perfectly, but Reid tried his hardest not to stare; not when her dad was watching. She hadn't done up her hair too much, which put Reid at ease. He didn't want to seem too dressed down and sloppy in comparison to her. It seemed like it was an unwritten rule; always look way better than Reid.

"Yeah," Reid said, collecting himself and worrying about if Jack had noticed his staring, "Yeah, sure."

Evie grabbed him by his left arm, knocking him back into reality, "Bye, dad!" she called out behind her. Reid was being dragged along, still uneasy, but not wanting to be impolite.

"Bye, Mr. De Luca!" Reid said, as Evie got him to the front door.

"It's Jack," he said, with a kind grin on his face.

"Yeah, that," Reid said, while Jack smiled in agreement.

Once they were outside, Reid opened up the passenger's seat of the car, and held it open. To his surprise, Evie grabbed the keys out of his free hand and ran over to the driver's side. Well, she certainly was determined. Reid hopped into the passenger's side as she put the key in the ignition. His car wasn't a sporty kind, but the ride to the restaurant felt like it was in a racecar, Evie's reckless, but fun driving feeling like riding a rollercoaster.

As they both got out of the car in the parking lot, Reid just had to ask her one quick question, "When was the last time you drove a car?"

"About five years ago," Evie said, walking towards the front door, leaving him there, thinking.

"You have to renew your license every four years, though," Reid called out to her, as she was already at the front door. He ran to catch up to her, to which she calmly replied, "Yeah, I know."

When they were finally were seated after what Evie called a "four hour wait" (it was really only twenty minutes), the reckless side of her didn't seem to end. Ordering was odd enough, the waiter obviously new, and had no clue as to what they served at the restaurant; he probably didn't even know it was an Italian restaurant. Reid stayed as polite and composed as possible; he never spoke up about anything, really. If his food came back with something on it he specifically asked to be taken out, he would just eat it and suck it up. He wouldn't even take out or off what he didn't want; he didn't want to run the risk of the waiter or chef seeing they screwed up and feel guilty about it. So he was a bit passive. He never saw a thing wrong with that.

Evie, however, was the exact opposite. When the waiter had no clue what he was doing, she pointed it out to him, and when he showed embarrassment on his face, she pointed that out, too. When the pasta she ordered came back with parmesan cheese sprinkled on top, she had them remake the entire thing.

"If you're paying for something, you deserve the very best of whatever you're paying for," Evie told him, and he didn't complain. She was right, he knew it, but he could never be like her. Even though he wanted to have some of her courage and boldness, he wasn't cut out to be like her. But it didn't mean he wouldn't try.

_**A/N: Finally, an update! Review for the next chapter, bbs. Also, tell me if you want more chapters like this, or for me to actually start getting to the good part. If I leave out the fluff, I might make another story just for that kind of interaction, so keep that in mind. (:**_


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